


Miraculous Revised: Stormy Weather

by Cheetahgirl_Studios



Series: Miraculous Revised [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheetahgirl_Studios/pseuds/Cheetahgirl_Studios
Summary: Part Three here we go!Hello there readers! Sorry I haven't been around for a while. 2020 has NOT been kind on my work-life balance. But here we are! Stormy Weather! The Ice Queen herself! (or am I thinking of Kagami?) Thankfully I feel a lot more confident about this installation than I did about Part Two, so there won't be huge delays between chapters like last time.Also, I love the theories you've all been posting. They're so creative and a joy to read, plus I appreciate the effort you're all making to comment your thoughts. So thank you. I can't put into words how much all of the positive feedback and encouragement means to me. I'm so glad so many of you love this series. It's an absolute blast to write, and I haven't even got to the meat of the story yet.Without further ado, here's Chapter One of Miraculous Revised: Stormy Weather. Enjoy!
Series: Miraculous Revised [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921117
Comments: 17
Kudos: 3





	1. Clear Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Part Three here we go!
> 
> Hello there readers! Sorry I haven't been around for a while. 2020 has NOT been kind on my work-life balance. But here we are! Stormy Weather! The Ice Queen herself! (or am I thinking of Kagami?) Thankfully I feel a lot more confident about this installation than I did about Part Two, so there won't be huge delays between chapters like last time. 
> 
> Also, I love the theories you've all been posting. They're so creative and a joy to read, plus I appreciate the effort you're all making to comment your thoughts. So thank you. I can't put into words how much all of the positive feedback and encouragement means to me. I'm so glad so many of you love this series. It's an absolute blast to write, and I haven't even got to the meat of the story yet. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's Chapter One of Miraculous Revised: Stormy Weather. Enjoy!

_The girl took a deep breath, resting her hands on the vanity as she stared at her reflection. “You can do this. You were **made** for this role. You **will** win.” The girl squared her shoulders, a confident smile breaking out on her face. A soft knock came from the dressing room door. A man in a black tee and jeans poked his head into the room, smiling at the girl. “Miss Bourielle, the limo will be here to take you to the TV station in five.” She nodded. “Right. Thank you.” He shot her a thumbs up. “Good luck!” She picked up the parasol leaning against the table, turning it in her hands as a cold, steely look overcast her brilliant blue eyes. “Won’t need it.”_

“Manon! Give me that! You’re going to damage something!” Marinette stumbled as her right foot caught a rogue floorboard, crashing into the counter stomach first. She gasped, winded as she fell to the floor. Manon giggled, pulling the hat up a bit over her hazel eyes. “But I wanna be a fashion designer! Just like you!” This was… _unfortunate_ , to say the least. _Isn’t this flattering? Ladybug, new hero on the block, alleged fearless heroine. Getting her ass handed to her by a five year old._ When she agreed to meet Adrien today, she seemed to have completely forgotten that she had already promised to babysit that very same afternoon. She pulled herself up onto the kitchen island, exhaling sharply. She looked up: and yelped. The toddler had managed to get her hands on her phone, primed in front of the TV that was displaying some kind of competition that was going to air live soon. “I’m going to vote for Mireille! She’s the best!” Marinette dashed over to the couch, almost toppling over the back of it as she snatched her phone in one fell swoop of her hand. “Give me that! You’re not voting for anything! I don’t even think you’re old enough to vote!” Manon stared at her for a minute, before taking off. _“Oh, bon Dieu…”_ Marinette muttered under her breath, sprinting after the child again. This was starting to get old, _fast_. She went to grab for the hat, only for the strangely nimble child to swerve out of her grasp. Marinette yelled as the momentum of her sprint carried her forward, flinging her onto the floor with a grunt of pain.

She sighed, burying her face into the floor. Why she insisted on making things difficult for herself would forever be a mystery. A soft knock rapped on the apartment door, and Marinette clambered up into a standing position. She made her way to the door, pulling it open. “Alya?” The redhead smiled, raising a hand in greeting. “Who let-?” “Your parents. I asked where you were, and they said you were in here and that I could go see you.” Something crashed to the ground behind them, and Marinette yelped as she raced off. Alya made her way inside the cosy apartment, resting against the back of the couch as she watched her new friend wrestle with Manon. “Do you want me to come back later? If you’re busy, I can leave.” Marinette shook her head. “No! No, please don’t go. I could do with the company.” She looked at Manon, who was battling against the teenager’s grip. She raised her eyebrows, glancing back at Marinette. “You never told me you did babysitting.” She huffed an exasperated sigh, shoulders slumping. “I also forgot to tell you that I apparently have to overcomplicate everything. I was supposed to meet Adrien today and-“

She froze. Alya narrowed her eyes, her gaze freezing over. “Adrien? As in the same guy who’s best friends with the girl who completely humiliated you yesterday?” Marinette grinned sheepishly. “Um… Yes? Now, before you go jumping to conclusions! I do not- repeat, do NOT- like him in that way! We talked a bit after school ended, and we agreed to hang out after his photoshoot today. That’s IT.” Alya frowned, crossing her arms. “How do you know you can trust him?” Marinette sighed. “Alya, relax. I promise, there’s nothing else there. He said he didn’t have a lot of friends, so I offered to hang out with him. He’s not that bad.” The girl dipped her head, brow furrowing. She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Em, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. It’s _Adrien_ that I don’t trust. The dude’s rich, famous _and_ blessed in the looks department. There’s a type involving people like him, and I don’t want you to get thrown for a loop.” Marinette opened her mouth to protest, but yelped when her arm was nearly ripped out of its socket by the rabid toddler pulling at it. She grunted with effort, planting her feet into the ground and holding her weight against the freakishly strong child.

She gasped softly, a look of ingenuity crossing her features. She knelt down to Manon’s height, gently taking her by the shoulders. “Hey! How would you like to go to the park?” Manon’s face lit up. “Really?! You mean it?” Marinette straightened up, nodding. “Yep. We can do whatever you want.” The child squealed in delight, bouncing up and down on her heels with excitement. Alya cocked a suspicious eyebrow, shooting her friend a questioning look. “You’re up to something. I can feel it.” Marinette smiled coyly at her, gathering Manon’s things. “Nope. Just figured it’s too beautiful a day to spend indoors, that’s all.” The girl stared at Marinette. “That smile says otherwise.” she deadpanned, obviously unconvinced. Manon had only just seemed to acknowledge Alya’s presence now, as she cocked her head. “Who are you?” She looked at Marinette, a sly look flashing in her eyes. She lowered herself down to Manon’s eye level, smiling away. “I’m a mystical unicorn from the land of Reespha, disguised as an awesomely fabulous teenage girl.” Manon giggled. “No you’re not!” She paused, brow furrowing. “Are you?” Alya gave the toddler her most charming smile. “Of course I am! I can even grant wishes, but only to little monkeys who behave.” She ruffled the child’s hair, scooping her up in her arms and making her way to Marinette. She slung Manon over her friend’s shoulders, so that Marinette was giving her a piggyback ride. “Okay! Let’s head on over to the park!” She winked at Marinette, bemused at her gobsmacked expression. “Wha-? How did you do that?” Alya shrugged. “Years of practice and a set of younger twins. It’s an older sister thing.” She spun on her heel and marched out the door, with Marinette in tow.

The black Mercedes slowed to a halt in front of the iron park gates, the driver door opening. The bodyguard got out, lumbering over to the passenger door and pulling it open. Adrien mumbled a polite thank you, clutching his carrier bag at his side as he got out. They walked into the luscious park, the jade leaves casting brilliant green light in the bright afternoon sun. Next to the fountain was a collection of various photography apparatus: none of which Adrien had bothered to learn the names of in spite of how long he’s been attending the photoshoots for. A man and woman were standing next to the camera, the former mumbling something in Italian. He noticed Adrien, and his face lit up. “Adrien! _Come stai, amico?_ Come! Come! I was just tending to some last minute details.” He flapped a dismissive hand at the woman, who walked off looking over the clipboard the photographer had been pouring over just a few seconds ago. Adrien smiled, waving. “Hey Giuseppe. Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” The Italian scoffed. “You? Never!” Giuseppe was a freelance photographer, however he was also a close acquaintance with Gabriel so he was trusted with a lot of Adrien’s more significant photoshoots. He preferred to dress casually, his logic being that if the shoot coordinator is relaxed then the model would be as well. Adrien definitely preferred him to the other shooting studios that worked under the Agreste brand: he never made him feel that he had to conform to a “perfect” image. For Giuseppe, just Adrien on his own was enough.

The photographer was fiddling away with his trusty camera, testing some angles for the shoot. “ _Ehi,_ Gorilla?” The bodyguard’s nostrils flared, and Adrien covered his mouth as he snickered. The Italian jerked his thumb in the direction of the lighting, still messing around with the angles of the instruments. “My usual lighting guy called in sick today. Any chance you could give me a paw- a hand?” The bodyguard glared at him, fists clenched. Snorting, he skulked over to the lighting equipment, picking up a large circular piece of gear. Giuseppe shot him a thumbs up, grinning. _“Grazie!_ Appreciate it!” He set down the camera on the stand, slightly adjusting it before stepping back in satisfaction. _“Perfezione!_ Now,” he turned to Adrien, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this done, yeah? If you’ll just follow me.” He gestured to the fountain, and Adrien took a seat. Giuseppe nodded, smiling. “Great! Okay, I’m thinking a few casual shots to start. Adds a real _je ne sais quoi,_ yeah?” He did the French in the hammiest accent he could, causing Adrien to laugh. The Italian grinned, taking a few shots of the moment. “You have a good sense of humour, _Signore_ Agreste. Unlike your father.” As the man rambled on, Adrien chewed the inside of his cheek. “Hey, Giuseppe?” He stopped. _“Sì?”_ Adrien hesitated, shuffling. “I-I was going to ask, is it okay if I… invited someone to the shoot?” Giuseppe hummed. “Depends. Who’d you ask?” Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “This girl. She’s in my class. She-“

He trailed off. The man was making a knowing expression. “…What?” Giuseppe laughed heartily, amused. “ _Hai una ragazza?_ I have to say Adrien, I’m surprised it took this long.” Adrien grumbled. “Very funny. And no. It’s not like that. She’s into fashion, so I figured it could be beneficial for her to attend a professional photoshoot.” The Italian cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “A fashionista, eh? Alright. Does your father know her?” Adrien shook his head. Giuseppe sucked air in through his teeth, recoiling. “Uh… _Non lo so,_ Adrien… If your dad doesn’t know her, I’m not sure he’d approve.” Adrien looked at him pleadingly. “Come on, please? He doesn’t _have_ to know. I won’t tell him. I swear.” Giuseppe tapped his chin with his index finger, lost in thought. He turned to the bodyguard. “You won't say anything to Gabriel?” The bodyguard grunted, and Giuseppe hummed. “Alright. She can come. I don’t see why not.” Adrien gasped, his face lighting up. “Thanks Giuseppe!” The photographer waved a hand. “ _Ah, non parlarne._ As long as your father doesn’t find out, and she doesn’t disrupt the shoot, then she’s more than welcome.”


	2. Shooting Star

The sleek limousine pulled up in front of the broadcasting station, where a ravenous media circus had crowded behind the red velvet ropes. A man dressed in a dark suit and a radio got out of the drivers’ seat, droning to the passenger door like a robot and pulling it open. The girl clambered out of the vehicle, putting on her most dazzling smile. Not wanting to fail her audience, she struck a pose, winking. The crowd cheered, enchanted by her playful charms. The girl smirked, strutting down the red carpet like royalty as she continued to work the crowd in her favour. And to think, she was _so_ close to having this fame and recognition all for herself! She waved to the crowd when she reached the door, just as the electric screen slid shut and cut her off.

She sighed, relaxing a bit. While being adored was fun, it was also tiring. She paused at the small mirror squatting on the receptionist’s desk, adjusting her golden locks a tad so that they didn’t look so untidy. “Aurore!” chirped a voice. She turned to see another girl at the entryway, beaming. “Oh. Mireille. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.” Mireille bounded up to Aurore’s side, giddy with excitement. “Can you believe it?! We’re in the finals! This is the chance of a lifetime! We could become celebrities!” _Yeah, ME. Not you._ She smiled sweetly at her friend, nodding. “Yep. It’ll be like when we were kids.” Two men dressed in suits entered the station lobby, their posture stiff and robotic. “You two the finalists?” The two girls nodded. “Right. If you’ll follow us, please.” Mireille grinned excitedly, enthusiastically nudging her friend in the side as she sprung after the two men. Aurore sighed heavily, slinging her parasol over her shoulder and following suit.

“You’re looking to go to Floor 12. Alec will already be expecting you.” The guard droned, his expression stiff as stone. Aurore shot an uncertain thumbs up, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Great. Thanks.” The door shut, and Mireille hit the button marked ‘12’. As the elevator whirred to life, Mireille started bouncing on her heels. “Oh, this is _so_ exciting! I can’t believe we made it to the finals! Stardom here we come!” She swerved to face Aurore: and frowned. Her friend was looking unusually irritated, staring blankly at the floor. “Hey, Aurore? Is everything okay?” The girl snapped her head around, panic lighting up her eyes. She flashed a smile. “I’m fine. Just nervous, that’s all.” _Yeah, nervous about LOSING._ Mireille breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh thank God. I thought I said something to upset you.” Her friend cocked her head. “What do you mean?” Mireille chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, it’s just that… I know how much this competition means to you, Aurore. I mean, you were the one who wanted me to join it with you. Being on the screen, in front of a loving audience… I know that’s the kind of life you’ve always wanted.” She beamed at her. “And I know for a _fact_ that you’re going to win. You were born for this role. I can feel it.” Aurore smiled at her. “Thanks, M. That’s really sweet of you.” _You better stop talking like this. You’re kinda making me feel bad about crushing you in the final._

_DING!_ The elevator doors slid open, revealing a hi-tech filming studio. Cameras panned and droned about in the rafters, manned by multiple workers in black tees with radios. In the centre was a brightly lit stage, the spotlights blinding as they bore down on the set piece below. Attached to the upper stage wall was a large monitor, blank and lifeless. The stage crew milled about mindlessly, chattering and buzzing like a colony of bees. Aurore frowned, scanning the room. “So, which one of these guys do you think is-“ A door at the furthest wall from where they were standing burst open, and a man came waltzing out from the bright dressing room. He had mocha skin, and from this distance the two girls had to squint from how bright his unnaturally white teeth were. He was bald, and was kitted in a casual blue tee and jeans. He had a certain air of charisma about him: this inexplicable charm to his manner. He clapped his hands together, grinning away. “All right, folks! Let’s give Paris a show, shall we?” A female member of the crew came up to him, and the two started talking about something over a bundle of paper in her hand. He briefly glanced up: and his eyes lit up whenever he saw Mireille and Aurore idling by the elevator. He flashed them a welcoming smile, leaning over to the crew member and saying something to her before strolling over to them. “Hey! You must be the finalists!” He held his hand out. “Name’s Alec.” Aurore stepped forward, firmly shaking his hand. “Aurore.” He glanced expectantly at Mireille, who followed her friend’s action, albeit not as confidently. “M-Mireille,” she muttered, recoiling her hand as soon as she could.

Alec nodded, still grinning. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you two.” He gestured to the main stage. “Do you want to follow me?” They made their way to the platform. “I have to say, you two must be pretty talented to make it this far. I mean, you’ve beaten 98 other contestants. That’s no small feat.” Aurore quickened her pace so that she was walking alongside the host. “Soo… Alec. I don’t suppose you would happen to know who’s going to win?” she queried, trying her best not to sound prying. The man shrugged. “Beats me. It’s up to the public who they want to win.” Aurore nodded curtly. “I see.” She let herself fall behind the other two, an arrogant smile quirking the corners of her mouth. “Then this’ll be child’s play…” she muttered under her breath, a knowing light gleaming in her eyes.

The girls took their places on the illuminated stage, as the final preparations for the broadcast whizzed by around the set. Before Alec went to step onto the stage, the female stage crew member from earlier grabbed him by the shoulder. She whispered something into his ear: not that either of them could hear her over the hum of the production crew. A confused Alec muttered something back, brow creased in either panic or concern. She mumbled something back, shrugging before walking away. For a long moment, the flamboyant TV host seemed at a loss for words. He stared blankly at the floor, before snapping out of it and taking his place in the centre of the stage. The monitor behind the stage flickered to life, as the spotlights flooded the stage in colour.

_“Welcome to the Kids Choice Weather Finals! We started off with 100 aspiring weather girls, but thanks to our faithful audience we’ve narrowed it down to two finalists! To my left, the amazing Aurore Boureille! To my right, the incredible Mireille Casce! We’ve taken in all of your votes, and we can reveal that the new Kidz+ weather girl is…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I'm a day overdue, but things have been hectic. But here it is! Chapter 2! 
> 
> So, what do we think of Aurore and Mireille? I wanted to add a wee bit of lore, so I decided to have them be friends. Obviously this gets put under strain what with the contest winner being revealed, but we'll see that soon. I can't wait to write another Ladybug and Cat Noir segment! They give me life! :D
> 
> Anyways, enough prattling. See you all next week!


	3. Calm Before the Storm

“I still think this is a bad idea.” Marinette scoffed. “What are you talking about? The park’s a great way to burn off some of Manon’s energy.” Alya rolled her eyes, breathing a frustrated sigh. “Not _that_ idea. I mean you meeting Adrien. I’m telling you, there’s something off about that guy. I can feel it.” Marinette shot her friend a blank stare. “I think that’s your paranoia you’re feeling.” She paused. “Look. How about this? You meet Adrien in person after the photoshoot, you both talk and get to know each other, and if you still think he’s bad news I’ll break it off with him. Fair?” The girl scowled, her nose scrunching up. “Ugh… Fine. But if he starts throwing up red flags, we’re getting the hell out of here.”

Thankfully the park wasn’t too busy. A few families sprinkled here and there, but that was about it. The early autumn breeze played at the emerald green leaves, which have yet to wither and crumble away. For the fall season, it was a beautiful day. White wispy clouds idled lazily in the sapphire sky, as the sun gave the city some post-summer warmth. In the centre of the scenic park was a stone fountain, where various photography equipment was displayed. Marinette noticed that Alya had grown rigid, clenching and unclenching her fist. “Remember. You just have to talk to him. No beating him up. No crude lobotomies with a tripod. Just a nice, civilised conversation.” Alya huffed, mumbling something under her breath. They made their way over to the equipment: only to run into something large. A man loomed over them, nostrils flaring as he stared them down. He had silvery hair, with white tufts framing his ears. The man was dressed in a black suit jacket and trousers, with a grey turtleneck. It was a bit hard to take him seriously, what with his sloping brow and fat, wide nose that made him look more like a gorilla than a human being. Marinette ducked behind her friend, holding Manon a bit closer to her side as she trembled.

_“Ehi!_ What do you think you’re doing? That’s the girl _Signore_ Agreste invited!” barked a voice from behind the man. He narrowed his eyes, snorting as he stood aside. “ _Le mie scuse, signorina._ The Gorilla has a mind of his own.” A hand popped out into view, waving to them in invitation. The owner of the voice grinned warmly at the girls. “You must be _Signore’s_ guest. Name’s Giuseppe.” A youngish man took Alya’s hand in his and shook it firmly, his voice thick with the distinctive purr of an Italian accent. He was dressed in a faded white tee and black jeans, with short copper hair and dirty bronze eyes to boot. Alya scowled at the word “guest”, snapping her hand away as soon as she could. “Actually, that would be me,” Marinette giggled sheepishly, inching out from behind her friend. Giuseppe’s eyebrows shot up, and his face flushed. “Ah! My apologies! I thought she was…” he vaguely pointed at Alya, who let out a dry, humourless laugh. “As if. She practically dragged me here.” Marinette sighed. “She’s over-exaggerating. Don’t mind her.”

Giuseppe pursed his lips, squirming a tad. “Well, _Signore’s_ been expecting you. We’re almost finished up, if you want to wait around.” Marinette beamed at him. “We’d love to! Right Alya?” The redhead grumbled something incoherent, crossing her arms. “I think that was a yes,” Marinette chirped, warranting a heated stare from her friend. The Italian beamed at them. “Great! If you just want to wait over here, then _Signore_ Agreste will be free shortly.”

Something tugged on Marinette’s trouser leg, and she glanced down. “Is that blonde guy your boyfriend?” Marinette squealed, clamping a hand over Manon’s mouth as her face flushed at least thirty-three shades of red and pink. And Alya oh-so-unhelpfully burst out into a fit of laughter. “With the way she’s going? Give her a week and she’ll be on his arm like a handbag!” Marinette snarled at her friend, her cheeks burning a deep red. “You’re. Not. _HELPING,”_ she hissed through gritted teeth, frantically scanning the area just in case Adrien (or more specifically the very large and very menacing ape he called a bodyguard) overheard the comment. She removed her hand from Manon’s mouth, forcing a smile. “N-No,” she stammered, mentally kicking herself for it. “He isn’t. We’re just friends, that’s all.” Manon scowled, her brow knitting together. “Then why are your cheeks all red like that?” Marinette flapped her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m just warm. I overheat easily.” Alya rolled her eyes, gently nudging Marinette out of the way as she knelt down to Manon’s eye level. “Marinette over here is trying to convince herself that she doesn’t have the hots for him. That’s why she’s blushing: she doesn’t want him thinking that she likes him.” Marinette grumbled. “That’s because I _don’t!_ Seriously Al, what’s it going to take to convince you that I’m not in love with him?! Do you want it in writing or something?!” Alya giggled, visibly amused at her friend’s flustering. “Marinette, chill. I’m just teasing. You know I wouldn’t embarrass you like that.”

“Um, excuse me?” a meek voice piped up behind them, and both of the girls turned around. Adrien was standing awkwardly in front of them, one hand reaching behind his neck as the other was raised in greeting. “S-Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Alya huffed, crossing her arms as she glared at him. Marinette smiled at him sweetly, shaking her head. “Not at all. Right, Alya?” Silence was her answer. Adrien squirmed a bit, shrinking away from Alya’s stare. He braved a bright smile, jutting his open hand out. “You must be Marinette’s friend. It’s nice to meet you,” he droned, his tone uneven and awkward. The redhead stared coldly at him, before she received a prompt nudge in the side from Marinette. She mouthed something along the lines of _be nice_ to her, and the girl let out a long sigh. She attempted her best friendly grin, shaking his hand. “Ditto,” she bit out, and despite her sickly sweet tone, Marinette could pick out what she really meant: _“If you so much as look at my BFF in the wrong way I’m going to snap your neck.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So... I feel like I should apologise. I know I'm two weeks overdue. I had exams and a butt ton of studying to do. Not to mention mood wise I wasn't doing too great, so motivation was sparse. So to make up for it, have 2 chapters on the house. On me.


	4. Brewing Thunder

_SLAM!_ The doors leading to the studio flew open, and Aurore stormed out into the corridor. Tears welled in her eyes as she growled, wiping them away. “Aurore! Wait!” She pretended not to hear. Something grabbed her wrist, and she slowed to a halt. “Aurore, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I thought that you were going to win. I don’t know why-“ She snapped her hand away, whirling around to stare down Mireille. “Exactly! You don’t _know_ anything! Like how it’s such a huge coincidence that you got my hopes up for winning, then _you_ won! You _knew,_ didn’t you? You knew I was going to lose!” She prowled closer to the girl, stabbing a finger in her face as she snarled. “Is this your idea of a _joke,_ Mireille? Building your friend’s hopes up only to crush them and humiliate me on national television?! Did you plan all of this?!” Mireille gulped, shaking her head in a frenzy. “N-No!” she spluttered, her words stumbling over each other. “I didn’t know about any of this! I swear! I’m as shocked as you are! Aurore, please! You have to believe me!” Aurore’s lower eyelid ticked, as her lip curled back in both anger and disgust. “Believe _you?!_ Why should I?! Why would I trust someone who lied to my face and humiliated me for all of France to see?!” Mireille sniffed, taken aback. “Aurore…” she started, going to place a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder. The girl slapped it away. _“Mierde!_ How could I be so stupid?!” she screeched, pulling away from Mireille. She pivoted on her heel, gripping her parasol so tightly her arm trembled. “You know what? I don’t care.” She glared at Mireille over her shoulder. “Have fun being the new weather girl. See if I care.” She stormed off down the corridor to the elevator, fresh tears prickling in her eyes.

Aurore bashed the door button with her fist, wishing that the elevator would hurry up and get her out of this hellhole of a studio already. The stainless steel doors slid open, and she stomped inside. She hit the button labelled “G”, and breathed a trembling sigh as the doors closed her off from the rest of the world. She gritted her teeth, a fire of pure hatred lighting in her eyes. “It’s not fair! I have the looks! The talent! The drive! I should’ve won!” she growled, boiling hot tears burning tracks down her cheeks. “But _she_ took it away from me! Why did Mireille win? She wasn’t even interested in the competition! It’s not fair! I deserve that role! Not her!” Suddenly, the elevator jolted to a halt, flinging Aurore forward onto the floor. The lights flickered out, and the emergency power supply kicked in. She yelped, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. She bolted to the elevator’s control panel, bashing her fist against the bell icon. “Help! Someone! I’m trapped in here!” Her heart was pounding a mile a minute, and Aurore could hear the heavy pounding of the blood in her ears as she battered both of her fists against the door. “Help! HELP!” she screamed, electric blue eyes wide with mortal dread. Something moved on the other side of the elevator doors. Aurore grinned in relief. _A maintenance worker!_ However, her grin vanished when she saw the shadow behind the doors… move? She gulped.

Something wasn’t right here.

The shadow bended and twisted as it moved closer. Aurore whimpered, stumbling backwards as she stared at the doors. Something dark started to clamber through the narrow gap between the metal slabs, its form stretching and morphing like something possessed. Aurore’s pupils dilated to the size of pinpricks, her eyes widening in silent horror. The shadow pulled itself free of the elevator doors, floating in front of her. It was a butterfly: well, _some_ kind of butterfly. In place of vibrant hues, the insect was coated in an ugly shade of black, a shadow-like substance oozing off its fragile frame. The only sign of life was the drowsy flap of its wings and the violent cracks of purple energy that splintered down its wings. Aurore trembled, her knucklebones threatening to tear through her paper white skin as she tightened her grip on her parasol. The creature drifted towards her, the beat of its wings growing louder as it drew near. “Stay away from me!” she screamed, flailing the umbrella around in a mad attempt to deter the butterfly. She toppled backwards, her back crashing against the hard steel beam behind her. The insect floated closer, and Aurore yelled out in pure horror. She opened her parasol, her arms shooting up to guard her from the creature.

Suddenly, a chill surged up her spine. She cried out in shock, as a searing bolt of pain shot through her arms and up towards her. Her face grew unnaturally hot, and her legs became too weak to support her weight. She collapsed to her knees, as the pain crept up her neck. _“You’re right, you know. You should’ve won,”_ purred a voice, the timbre too deep and too distorted for her to recognise. A heaving sob wracked Aurore’s body, as she remained slumped on her knees. “Who…? Who are you…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as the words glued to her throat. _“No one. Just another nameless face,”_ the voice replied, its tone soft and reassuring. _“But you do have a point. I couldn’t help but pick up on your distress. How awful you must feel, trusting that girl so much only for her to turn around and stab you in the back. She wouldn’t even have that job if you didn’t encourage her to enter the competition.”_ A sneer pulled at Aurore’s upper lip, curling it back as she snarled. “I know! And then she says that she didn’t know! Liar- she was just trying to humiliate me! And to think I _helped_ her!” The distaste in her bark was thinly veiled. The voice tutted. _“Disgraceful behaviour, if you ask me. But I think we’re being too narrow-minded here. There may be someone else to blame…”_ Aurore gasped, her body stiffening.

_Alec._

Of course. It made sense. He was stopped before they went on stage. That expression he made… Aurore growled, her eyes freezing over. “That bald-headed- HE CHEATED ME OUT OF MY WIN! HOW DARE HE?!” The voice went silent for a minute. _“Most likely to get more views. You know how show business works. Integrity and fairness mean nothing compared to controversy and opportunity. That’s why they chose that girl over you. They don’t care for talent. They prefer pulling scandals and seeing what earns them the most headlines.”_ Aurore snarled, her face twisting in pure rage as she practically foamed at the mouth. “Those selfish-! They _planned_ this!” The voice hummed. _“Seems so, I’m afraid. But that’s why I’m here. With my help, you can get your revenge on both that girl and that TV host. I can give you unlimited power. All you have to do is agree.”_ Aurore grinned wickedly. “You don’t have to ask me twice. Count me in.” A darkness started swarming over her body, swallowing her in its shadows as the voice chuckled.

_“Excellent. I look forward to working with you, Stormy Weather.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me, or does every blonde girl with blue eyes have some kind of anger issue in Miraculous?
> 
> Anyways, what do we think about Aurore? Hawk Moth? I'm genuinely curious, because I've received some comments that are interested in Mothy's character. You may have also noticed that there's no lengthy monologue from him. While it's somewhat amusing to see just how many theme-appropriate puns he can fit into one segment, I felt like that time spent cutting to Hawk Moth could be better used to establish the conflicts of the akuma victims. So the monologues are no more. Please don't kill me for cutting them out.
> 
> Tune in next week for a superpowered beatdown between Storm and our heroes!


	5. Fatal Forecast

Mireille sulked down the corridor, clutching the glistening trophy close to her chest. She had warranted a fair amount of puzzled looks when she quietly thanked Alec for the award before trudging out of the studio with her head hung low. The look of utter disgust and hurt on Aurore’s face was scratched into her heart. It really wasn’t fair. Entering the contest, Mireille just _knew_ that Hell would freeze over before she even stood a chance at winning. And why did this otherwise monumental feat feel so… empty? Like there was no credit there? She had just won a career that every other aspiring actress would kill for a chance at. So why did she feel so rotten about it?

Her stomach heaved at the heavy thinking. Mireille slunk inside the elevator, pressing the ground floor button with her thumb. The silver doors slid shut, and she took in a laboured sigh. “Maybe I should try and find Aurore,” she mumbled to herself, staring at her warped reflection in the trophy. “This has to be some kind of mistake. Maybe they counted the votes wrong?”

Silence.

She groaned, thunking her forehead against the cool metal of the trophy as she closed her eyes. “Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t explain any of this to her. She probably hates me now.” She scoffed, slumping back against the elevator wall. “I don’t blame her.”

Suddenly, the elevator screamed as steel clashed against steel. Mireille squeaked in surprise, stumbling forwards before catching herself on the handrail. Her head snapped up, brow creased in worry as her grip on the railing tightened. The floor underneath her feet teetered left and right, causing her stomach to flip. Her whole body trembled, paralysed as the blood in her ears pounded. The elevator groaned- almost like it was in pain- as it struggled to hold its own weight and the girl’s. Mireille opened her mouth to scream for help, but the cry glued to the inside of her throat. The best she could muster was a pathetic whimper.

A sharp jolt surged through the metal death trap. Mireille yelped, her feet scrabbling to find their hold as they gave out beneath her. The elevator lurched to one side, a gut-wrenching scream piercing her ears as the steel contraption clawed against the wall of the elevator shaft. “HELP!” Mireille screeched, finally able to find her voice. An echoing _CRACK!_ replied. The miniscule room lurched again, this time smashing Mireille’s frozen body against the opposite wall. She shivered. The temperature of the elevator had plummeted through the floor, as an eerie chill drifted into the room like smog. Mireille whimpered, her body breaking out into a cold sweat as her heart froze dead in her chest. The elevator swung back and forth, the remaining cable struggling to bear the weight.

_CRACK!_

The elevator began plummeting towards the solid concrete at the bottom floor, falling faster and faster as it dropped like a rock. Mireille screamed, holding on to the handrail for dear life as gravity tried to snatch her away. Tears burned in her eyes. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage. She could barely breathe. This was it. This was how she was going to die. Sixteen years old, and smeared against the walls of a dark, dusty elevator shaft. All thanks to a stupid competition. She clamped her eyes shut, bracing herself for the fatal impact.

Suddenly, the elevator slammed to a halt. Mireille was flung against the ceiling, then crashed to the floor. She groaned, black dots playing in her vision as the world teetered and swerved in and out of focus in front of her eyes. The stainless steel doors grinded open: which was hell on her ears. A bone-chilling chuckle echoed in her skull, and Mireille forced her head up as her senses came to. A girl loomed over her, cast in shadow by the bright lights behind her. She leaned down to Mireille’s eye level, a maniacal grin on her face.

“Hey, bestie.”

Mireille shrieked, tumbling backwards as her eyes shot wide. “A-Aurore?! Is that you?!” The girl cackled. “The one and only! What do you think of my new look?” The former blonde looked alien to her old self. Her skin was far too pale, practically snow white in fact. Her usually golden hair was bleached dark purple, and was now tied up in twintails with flashes of white burning through it. Gone was the light blue sundress and white flats. She was dressed in a black gown, complete with white boots and gloves. A belt was slung around her waist, the buckle bearing the unmistakeable insignia of a lighting bolt. Her sky blue eyes were now a cold, steely grey, with an ink black mask plastered over the area around them. She slung her parasol over her shoulder, which also got the black and white makeover. Mireille clambered to her feet, swallowing the lump in her throat. “What… What happened to you?” Aurore giggled, giving her former best friend a playful twirl. “Nothing. Just figured it was time for a wardrobe change, that’s all. Do I look wicked or what?”

Mireille shook her head, her brain racing to rationalise what exactly was happening in front of her right now. “No! This is wrong! All wrong! You turned into this because of me, didn’t you?!” Aurore’s playful grin vanished. Her eyes grew colder as she glared at the girl. “Huh. So, you have winner’s remorse. Figures.” Mireille tried to keep her voice even, but the miniature ocean pooling on her forehead threatened to betray her anxiety. “Aurore, PLEASE listen to me. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear. It has to be some kind of misunder-“ A flash of white exploded in Mireille’s vision. She stumbled backwards, clutching her jaw as her eyes welled with tears. Aurore lowered the parasol, glaring at Mireille. “Don’t. Don’t you dare start this now,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. She stepped backwards, out of the elevator. “I already told you that I don’t care about that competition anymore. All I care about is getting what I deserve.” She raised the parasol, glowering at Mireille. “I _always_ get the forecast right. And unfortunately for you, there’s a severe cold front moving in.” Mireille squeaked, shaking as she shot her hands up. “Aurore! Wait! Don’t do this! Please! I’m sorry! I really am!” Aurore narrowed her eyes, sneering. “It’s Stormy Weather to you, _chienne._ ”

The last thing Mireille saw before everything faded to white was a burst of purple energy.

“I get the feeling your friend doesn’t like me.” Marinette squeaked, frantically waving her hands. “No! No. She doesn’t _hate_ you. She’s just overprotective, that’s all.” Adrien frowned, his face falling as he slumped his shoulders. “Let me guess. It’s because I’m famous, isn’t it?” Marinette opened her mouth to reassure him that Alya was just overanalysing the situation, but all that came out was a quiet croak. She sighed. “Yes… and no. It’s also because you’re good looking and rich.” Adrien breathed a weighted sigh, hanging his head. “Figures. I get that a lot.” Marinette’s brows shot up, eyes widening with surprise. “Wait, what? I thought you were, like, _the_ most popular teenage boy in Paris.” A sad smile quirked at the edges of his mouth. “That intimidates some people. They take one look at me and write me off as either a trophy boy or a future ‘rich kid gone bad’ headliner,” he droned, flexing his pointer and middle fingers around “rich kid gone bad”.

Marinette grimaced, glancing away as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “I don’t think you’re like that,” she mumbled. Adrien snapped his head around, eyes wide. “Really?” Marinette nodded. “Look, I know I haven’t really known you that long. Hell, I thought you were a complete snob when we first met. But, talking to you- _actually_ talking, that is- you’re a lot more down to earth than I thought,” she explained, smiling at him. A smile tugged at his lips, but he pursed them. “Plus, you’re pretty brave too.” He scoffed, that smile now breaking out on his face. “Okay, now you’re just flattering me.” Marinette scowled, her tone growing stern. “I’m serious.” Adrien’s smile quickly vanished as he shied away a bit. Marinette squeaked, clamping her hand over her mouth as her face drained of colour. “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean- I was just- I shouldn’t have-“ She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Sorry. That sounded really rude. I meant that I couldn’t cope with what you have to put up with all the time,” she grumbled, her voice muffled. Adrien raised an eyebrow, nose scrunched in confusion. “What are you talking about? Do you mean the photoshoots?” Marinette cracked her fingers open, peering at the boy through her hand. “Not really. While they’re probably a pain in the ass, they look manageable. I meant everything else. The attention, the crowds…”

Adrien craned his neck to meet her gaze, brow knitted in confusion. “Why? You seem confident. Plus you get on well with other people. You’d be good at handling the crowds.” She sighed, pulling her hands away from her face so that she could see him properly. “Oh, trust me. This?” she gestured to the rest of herself with her right hand. “This is me around a few people. The me with crowds is a hot mess.” She stared at the ground, propping her elbows on her knees as she rested her head in her hands. “I don’t know how you can handle it. All of those eyes on you. Everyone you come across judging you, labelling you. And going through that every single day of your life?” She let out a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t even last a week. I’d go off the rails and start heading down the fallen celebrity path before the month’s out. Imagine that for a headline: ‘Teen Model Marinette Dupain dead from alcohol poisoning!’”

Adrien burst out laughing, snapping Marinette out of her self inflicted pity party. “Hey! I’m revealing my deepest darkest fears here! They’re not exactly what I would call light hearted,” she grumbled. He shook his head, grinning. “Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that… you’re right. There are some days where it can all be a bit overwhelming. And the rest of the time it’s draining. But I don’t really have much else of a choice but to get on with it all.” He noticed that Marinette’s eyes were fixed on his, and the right corner of her mouth was quirked a bit. “Um… are you okay? You look a bit upset,” he queried. Marinette blinked hard, rattling her head from side to side as she shook herself off. “I-I’m fine. Just got caught up thinking, that’s all.”

Suddenly, an explosion of light and energy blasted near them. They both crashed to the ground, as Adrien covered Marinette’s body from the blast with his own. “The hell…?” Marinette started, trying to peer over Adrien’s shoulder to see what had caused it. Glancing down, she gasped. A part of Adrien’s jacket had been torn away by the explosion, exposing an angry red scorch mark to his shoulder. “Adrien, you’re…” He grabbed her by the shoulders, starting to move her away. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a burn. Nothing some ice can’t fix. Now come on. We need to get out of here.” She tried to fight against him, struggling to pull away from his grasp. “But what about Alya?! She’s with Manon! They could be in danger! We have to go back!” Adrien didn’t budge. “Don’t worry. Alya’s tough. Hopefully her protective instincts apply to kids too. Besides, she would want you to be safe above all else,” he explained, his voice soft and reassuring. Marinette glanced at him, and back at the chaos unfolding in the park. With a resigned sigh, she nodded. “Okay.” They took off along the path, as more explosions rang off behind them. “Get to cover!” he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the commotion. Marinette nodded, ducking behind a nearby tree.

“Tikki! Wake up!” The Kwami pulled herself from Marinette’s inner coat pocket, eyes wide. “An akuma?” Marinette glanced over the trunk: only to duck her head back in from another explosion. “Yep,” she groaned, brow creased in worry. Tikki nuzzled her cheek, smiling at her. “You’ll be okay, Marinette. Just remember to keep calm and steady.” Marinette exhaled sharply. “Calm. Steady. Got it. Okay, let’s do this. Tikki, spots on!”

“Plagg. Plagg!” Adrien hissed, slamming the lid of one of the many equipment boxes shut. He flitted his gaze over the mountains of containers, growling in frustration. “I’m not he-e-re! I’m sle-e-e-eping!” purred a muffled singsong voice. Adrien pursed his lips, his shoulders drooping. He plunged a hand into his satchel, fishing around. His fingertips brushed against something crusty, and he repressed a gag as he pulled the thing out of his bag. He brandished the piece of Camembert in the air like a trophy. Two small black ears poked out of one of the boxes, followed by a pink button nose. After a lengthy whiff, Plagg came racing out of the box and pounced on the slice of cheese. He opened his mouth to take a bite, but stopped when he noticed Adrien’s glare. “Just so you know, smelling delicious cheese in my sleep is one of my many talents,” the Kwami huffed, puffing out his chest. Adrien snapped the slice of cheese away. “You can snack _after_ we beat whoever’s decided to nuke the park.” He put the Camembert back into his bag. “Plagg, claws out!”


	6. March of the Ice Queen

_BOOM!_

Another explosion of purple energy tore into the park’s terrain, engulfing an innocent tree in an inferno of purple and violet. Others were sprawled out on the ashen and scorched paths and grass, the amethyst flames clambering up into the sky as smoke choked the air. Whatever poor souls weren’t quick enough to flee the carnage were now caged in ice, their eyes soulless and glassy as their mouths gawped open in silent horror. The girl howled with maniacal laughter, pirouetting about in her own little world of madness as she jabbed her parasol in the direction of a balloon-vending cart. A bolt of blinding lightning shot from the razor steel tip, tearing the cart into splinters with an ear-splitting boom. She cackled, a hysterical grin painted on her face as she relished the chaos. She pivoted on her heel, nodding in satisfaction at the now burned park. She skipped out the smoking iron gates, whistling some kind of tune to herself.

“Hey! _Reine des Glaces!”_ The girl whipped her head around. Cat Noir was leaning off one of the iron bars, twirling his belt-tail in a circle with his free hand. “Did your mother never tell you that it’s dangerous to play with fire? What would she say if she saw you burning innocent trees to a crisp?” he exclaimed, feigning a hurt reaction. The girl snarled, stamping her foot as she glared icy daggers at him. “My name isn’t Ice Queen! It’s Stormy Weather! And who the hell are _you_ supposed to be?! Cat Boy?!” He grinned, leaping from his perch and landing gracefully on his two feet. “Depends. If you decide to play nice and stop burning down parks, then I’m your new bestie. Keep attacking innocents, I’m your worst nightmare.” He winked at her. “But I go by Cat Noir. Since you asked so nicely.” Stormy Weather growled, her arm shooting up to aim her parasol at his chest. Cat Noir’s eyes shot wide, and he waved his hands frantically. “Whoa! Whoa! Easy! We don’t have to fight! I’m here to help you! Chill out!” Her lip curled back. “ _Chill_ out?! Is that another stupid ice pun?!” He gulped, frantically shaking his head. “No! It’s a figure of speech! I wasn’t making a pun! If I was, it would’ve been wittier than that!” Stormy Weather’s eyes narrowed, her stare freezing over. “Look, I’m not the enemy here. I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before. Just calm down, and we can get you help.” He beamed at her, reaching out an open hand. “No one else needs to get hurt.” Stormy Weather lowered her aim, pursing her lips. “Tempting offer…” She grinned, opening the parasol. “But I’ll pass.”

The air was knocked out of Cat Noir’s lungs as a blast of wind smashed into him, sending him screaming through the air. The city streets and cars melted together into a grey and rainbow blur as he flailed about helplessly. His head smashed off something hard and cold, flinging him into another object. Then another. And another. He skidded across the ground, grimacing as his face scratched against the rough asphalt. Dots danced in front of his vision, as he groaned in pain. A hand came into his line of sight, palm open to him. “Sorry I’m late. Damage control,” stated a voice. A very familiar one. He looked up- and grinned. Sky blue eyes met his gaze, along with a friendly face. He grabbed hold of Ladybug’s hand, pulling himself to his feet. “Ah, it’s fine. Just, _please_ tell me that you showing up late isn’t gonna be a regular thing.” She squirmed, rubbing the back of her neck with her right hand. “No. At least, I’ll try to be on time. Are you hurt?” He scanned himself. “Nope! All good! Just a bruised ego, that’s all. I’ll be _purr_ fectly fine,” he assured, winking at her. She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Really? _Purr_ fectly fine? Let me guess: I’m going to be hearing a lot of those puns, aren’t I?” Cat Noir jutted out his lower lip. “Hey! If I’m going to be the Black Cat Hero, then I should at least be allowed to make as many cheesy cat puns as my heart desires!” he whined, ears flattening on his head. Ladybug patted his shoulder. “And I never said you couldn’t. As long as they’re not _too_ cheesy, then the cat puns are negotiable.” He beamed, ears shooting up. “Great! Or, should I say… _Paw_ some?” Ladybug snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “Okay, I admit. That one was funny.”

Suddenly, Cat Noir’s ears twitched on top of his head. He snapped his head around- and cried out. “Watch out!” he yelled, grabbing Ladybug and diving to the floor. A car smashed into the asphalt where they stood a split second ago, wailing a high pitched screech as it crashed and skidded across the road. “What the-?” Ladybug muttered, staring at the car with wide eyes. Cat Noir helped her up, glaring in the direction the vehicle came from. “We’ve got company,” he growled, unhooking his baton from the rear of his belt. Ladybug unclipped her yoyo from her own belt, bracing herself. The sky above them became inky and dark, thunder roaring off in the distance.

Something small and bright ignited on the horizon, and the duo frowned. It was only when the light became bigger and crackled did they realise what it was. “MOVE!” Ladybug yelped, veering out of the way of the lightning bolt. It hit the ground between where they were standing, exploding into a violent blast on impact. Cat Noir gagged, covering his mouth with his arm as the stench of smoke clogged up his throat. More cars came hurtling towards them, alarms piercing the air. Ladybug tucked and swerved out of the way of each one, putting all of her focus on not missing a single step. Cat Noir darted between the vehicles, opting to run on all fours. A blood-chilling cackle filled the air, as someone perched themselves on one of the mangled piles of scrap metal that used to be a car in front of the two heroes. “That the best you can do, Ice Queen?! Throw cars like a toddler?!” Cat Noir jeered, straightening back up. Stormy Weather snarled, but quickly regained her composure. “Nice try, _mutt._ But you and Spotface are gonna need a lot more than sticks and stones to beat _me.”_ Ladybug frowned, glaring at the villain. “Why are you doing this? Those people you froze were innocent!” Stormy Weather scanned her expression. “Why? WHY?! Because I’m going to take back what was rightfully mine! If they’re going to make a fool out of _me_ , then I’m going to make popsicles out of _them!_ I’m the only weathergirl who always gets the forecast right! And you two should be expecting a freak lightning storm right _now!”_

She jabbed her parasol into the sky, shooting a bolt of lightning into the rumbling clouds above. The veil of clouds began glowing a sinister purple, as they spun faster and faster until they formed a gaping halo of lightning and thunder. A blast of lightning erupted from the horde, zooming towards Cat Noir. “NO!” Ladybug screamed, rushing towards her partner and slamming into his side. Both of the heroes crashed to the ground, clamping their eyes shut as the bolt exploded, showering them in dust and pebbles. Cat Noir snarled, sprinting towards Stormy Weather, arm primed to smash his baton across her jaw. She smirked. “Oh, and there’s going to be black ice as well!” She blasted the street with a white ball of energy, and Cat Noir yelped as his feet lashed out in all directions, trying to find a stable foothold. The villain chuckled, opening up the godforsaken parasol. An impossibly strong wind slammed into him, and he tried to keep his hold. Cat Noir yelled as he was catapulted backwards, smashing into Ladybug as they were sent flying backwards. She threw her yoyo at a nearby lamppost, the tension jerking through her body as her teeth clashed against each other. She grabbed hold of Cat Noir’s tail, her arms burning under the stress of keeping them both where they were.

The wind stopped as quickly as it began. Ladybug yelped as she crashed to the ground, Cat Noir following suit. She sat upright, nursing the back of her head as she grimaced. “You okay?” Cat Noir rattled his head from side to side, picking out a piece of rubble with his claws and flicking it away. “I’m fine. Thanks. For, uh, you know… saving me back there.” She smiled. “Hey. Now we’re even.” She looked back to where they were attacked, and grumbled. “Great. That girl got away. She could be anywhere.” She grabbed Cat Noir’s arm, helping him up to his feet. “I bet the akuma’s in her umbrella. I mean, it makes sense, right?” Ladybug hummed. “First of all, it’s a parasol. Not an umbrella. The handle wasn’t curved, and the material looked lighter than an umbrella’s,” Ladybug corrected, a smile quirking on her lips. Cat Noir raised an eyebrow. She froze, before chuckling nervously. “But I think you’re right. We just need to think of a way to get it off her…” Cat Noir dipped his head, brow furrowing in thought. “Well, my first plan was to charge her and take it by surprise, but I’d rather not test her patience again.” He gasped, his eyes lighting up. “How ‘bout a sneak attack?” Ladybug pursed her lips, humming. “It’s not a bad idea. But we don’t know where she is, _or_ what she’s trying to achieve from all this. Why would someone as powerful as her choose to destroy the entire city?” Cat Noir scanned the mangled cars sprawled across the road. “Maybe she failed her driver’s license? I’ve heard that has a way of breaking a lot of kids.”

Ladybug opened her mouth to respond, but as she went to speak the high-pitched whine of static filled the air. _“Hello-o Paris!”_ The heroes jumped, whirling around to face the direction of the voice. A large monitor crackled to life, revealing Stormy Weather standing in what appeared to be some kind of studio. _“Get your skis and scarfs ready, because Mother Nature has other plans for Fall this year! A serious cold front is closing in, fast. In fact, this city’s about to be plunged into an eternal winter!”_ She cackled. _“But hey. Look on the bright side, Parisians. Now you don’t have to wait for snow anymore!”_ She howled with laughter, as the camera died and cut to black. Cat Noir clicked his tongue.

“You know, you’d think she’d be smarter than to reveal her location like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! :D
> 
> Hey guys! We survived 2020! Yay!
> 
> Hopefully you all had a safe and happy Christmas, or any other festival you may celebrate. I took the last week off to enjoy the holidays, so that's why this is coming a bit later than scheduled. But to celebrate and to break in a hopefully better 2021, here's two chapters.
> 
> Istg writing the interactions between Ladybug and Cat Noir gives me life. I just LOVE their dynamic. And Storm's personality is fun to write too. But I think I made her more of an unhinged psycho than she is in canon. Oops...
> 
> Oh well. She's supposed to be evil. Insanity works lol.
> 
> See y'all in the comments! Bug out!


	7. Lights, Camera, Action!

“At least Ice Queen was nice enough to leave the door unlocked.” Ladybug grimaced, hopping over the mangled corpse of wiring and glass that used to be the lobby’s front door. “Yeah, sure. _Unlocked._ We’ll go with that…” she murmured, dodging her foot out of the way of a rogue shard of glass jutting out of the floor and surveying the rest of the station’s front lobby. Whatever wasn’t a maimed heap of fabric and material on the floor was burning, the gross stench of singed fabric and cotton suffocating her. She gagged, covering her mouth with a gloved hand as her eyes watered from the arid sting of the smoke choking the air. Cat Noir sprung over the door, landing in a graceful crouch next to his partner and straightening up. He scanned the room, a low whistle escaping his lips. “Well, _someone_ had a temper tantrum. Maybe she’s a furniture retailer and got sick of seeing chairs every day?” Ladybug stared at him with a deadpan look in her eyes, her lips pursed together in a thin line. “I don’t think a retail worker would hate their job enough to become a supervillain,” she droned flatly. Cat Noir grimaced. “Yeah, ok. Fair enough.”

Something piqued his interest, as the cat ears on top of his head tweaked. “Hey, Ladybug. Look.” He tapped her shoulder, jerking his thumb in the direction of a cardboard cut-out. It depicted two girls: well, one girl and a headless body that assumingly belonged to a girl. The girl who _wasn’t_ decapitated was beaming at an invisible adoring audience, completing her “girl next door” aesthetic with golden blonde hair, crystalline blue eyes and a sky blue sundress accompanied by a parasol slung casually over her shoulder. The headless one had a more withdrawn pose: hands clasped behind her back, one knee crooked awkwardly and bent towards the other, bunched up shoulders. Had she manage to keep her head, she probably would’ve had a shy expression on her face. Maybe a small smile or something. Instead, all there was from the neck up was burnt cardboard and smoke pluming upwards from where the stub still glowed orange.

Ladybug gasped, her hand clamping over her mouth as she stared at the headless cut-out. “Oh God! You… You don’t think…?” Cat Noir hummed, leaning forward to inspect the maimed prop as he tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “I wish I could say no, but seeing as how Little Miss Snowflake tried to kill _us,_ I don’t think we should hold our breath,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at her. She backed away, shoulders heaving. “But why? Why is she doing all of this? What is she gaining from mindless destr-“ Her words fell away. “Ladybug? Hey, is everything okay?” Cat Noir pressed, brow knitted together in worry. The spotted heroine’s hands slowly fell away from her face, horror filling her eyes as they grew rounder and wider. “I… I recognise her…” She stuttered towards the cardboard cut-out, and Cat Noir stepped out of her way to give her enough space. “I saw her on TV… This morning… She was a finalist on a competition that was airing today…” she mumbled, her stare fixed on the blonde. “You think… Do you think this is what she meant by _‘taking back what’s rightfully mine’_?” Cat Noir gnawed on his bottom lip, looking between his partner and the cut-out nervously. After a long moment of silence, she sighed. “Thought as much. She lost, and flipped out. Then she got turned.”

Her partner was still silent.

“Uh, Cat Noir? What’s wrong?” He waved his hand faintly to the side, and Ladybug stepped to the wayside as he took her place in front of the prop. He remained silent, brow knitting together as he studied the image in front of him. He gasped, clicking his fingers as his eyes flashed. “Aha! Got it!” he exclaimed. Ladybug frowned, quirking a curious eyebrow. “Got what?” He smirked at her. “You’re right about Stormy-Locks losing the competition. I mean, it’s the only logical way she could’ve become a villain. But…” Ladybug looked at him, gesturing her hand in a circle. “But…?” “Well, just losing wouldn’t have been enough to cause this whole mess. Remember what happened with that Ivan guy? He turned into Stoneheart because he got his heart destroyed. If he was just sad, then I doubt he would’ve gone on a rampage. These “akumas” that are turning people into supervillains only seem to target _strong_ negative emotions. Rage, grief, despair, paralysing fear…” He counted each emotion off on his fingers. “You get the idea. While I’m sure that losing a contest isn’t exactly what I would call fun, it would just deal a blow to your ego. Which wouldn’t be a strong enough emotion to attract our little friends of darkness.” Ladybug nodded slowly, lips drawn in a thin line. “So… You’re calling foul play?” He grinned. “We’ve only been partners for two days, and you already know me so well,” he crooned, batting his eyelashes at her theatrically.

She snorted, playfully pushing him away with her pointer finger with a smile and a roll of her eyes. “Very funny. Now, about the competition…?” He nodded curtly. “Right. Sorry, I’m a tease by nature. Anywho, about Stormy-Locks. Just _losing_ wouldn’t be enough to piss her off to the point that she becomes Zeus with twintails. There has to be something else going on here. Like, maybe the competition was rigged.” Ladybug hummed. “She said that she was taking back what was rightfully hers. And she looks to have it out for the other finalist…” Cat Noir nodded. “So, we have our motive. Now we just need to find-“

He stopped. Somewhere behind them, echoing off in the distance, was the eerie singing of a voice.

_“Il pleut,_

_il pleut,_

_le vieil homme ronfle_

_Il s’est couché,_

_et lui a cogné la tête,_

_et ne pouvait pas se_

_lever le matin."_

The voice’s haunting melody floated through the labyrinth of corridors and studios that lay just beyond the gaping hole where two doors leading to the rest of the station once stood. Ladybug gulped, trying to keep an even expression but unable to stop herself from trembling. Cat Noir rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving her a look that helped ease her nerves a bit. She nodded at him, all of the words lodged in her throat being said through her gesture alone. They took off through the hole in the wall, towards the singer.

“Would it really kill whoever works here to put labels on these goddamn doors?” Cat Noir growled, scanning the different studio entrances as they bolted past each one. “She could be anywhere!” Ladybug remained silent, her eyes flitting over the small monitors that were mounted outside each studio. If Stormy Weather was in one, the screens would give her away. Or maybe that was what she wanted. This whole setup was indeed easy. _Too_ easy. There was this stone weight in her gut that she couldn’t shake. Maybe it was just her paranoia playing up again, but Ladybug had this- this _feeling_ that this was a trap. That the villain was deliberately making the chase easy so that she could ambush them. The eerie melody was still echoing off the walls, ringing in her ears and ricocheting off her skull. “We get it! The old man hit his head! You can stop singing that now!” she snapped, growling. Cat Noir slowed, cocking his head. “No. Wait. This is a good thing.” He snapped his head around, nose curled up as he furrowed his brow. “What? That stupid nursery rhyme being stuck in my head for the next few weeks?” He ignored her sarcastic comment, cocking his head in the opposite direction as he scanned the maze of corridors. “She’s this way,” he stated, dashing off down one of the corridors. Ladybug quickly matched his speed, pulling up level to him. “You can track her by sound?” He shrugged. “It must be one of my powers. I guess that’s why I have these,” he pointed to the black cat ears poking out of his scruffy hair.

Following his hearing, the duo finally came to a set of blood red double doors. And, sure enough, on the monitors outside was the maniacal grin of Stormy Weather. Cat Noir stretched his arms out in front of him, interlocking his fingers as he smirked. “Count of three?” Ladybug nodded, unhooking her yoyo from her hip and looping her ring finger through the hook. “Count of three.” They both took a few steps back, expressions steely as they braced themselves. “One…” Cat Noir crouched down on all fours, pulling his right knee close to his chest as he pointed his left foot back. “Two…” Ladybug tightened her grip on her weapon, one leg crouched back, ready to strike.

“THREE!”

Both of them sprung forward, letting their momentum carry their force. The doors gave way under their combined weight, exploding open as they charged into the studio. Cat Noir sprang to his feet, baton extended into a staff in his right hand. Ladybug frowned, lowering her guard as she scanned the room. The studio was completely empty. On one of the cameras pointing at the panel of blue screens plastered on the wall was a recording of Stormy Weather. She reattached her yoyo to her belt, walking over to the camera and carefully taking it off the tripod. She grumbled. “She tricked us. I had a feeling she was making it too easy…” Cat Noir scrunched up his nose, cocking his head again. “Cat Noir, give it up. It’s just the recording you’re hearing. She isn’t here.” He shook his head. “No. I hear… something else…” he mumbled, turning on his heel to scan the rest of the studio. Ladybug put the camera back on its perch, eyeing him suspiciously. “Something else? Like what? There’s no one here.” His lips drew together into a thin line, as he closed his eyes. “It kinda sounds like… someone’s…” His eyelids snapped open, and he frowned. “Wait, that can’t be right.” It was now Ladybug’s turn to cock her head, but in confusion. “What?” He looked over at her. “It sounds like-“

Suddenly, the camera next to Ladybug exploded into a spark of wires and glass. She yelped, diving away with her hands clasped over her ears. “Well, well, well! Would you look at that? Like moths to a flame! How predictable!” crowed a mocking voice. Cat Noir snapped his head around, his upper lip curling back in a snarl. Stormy Weather was leaning against the railing of one of the many walkways hanging above the studio floor, elbow propped up on the metal beam as she rested her head in her hand. She smirked at them. “You two really can’t help acting like a bunch of dumbasses, huh?” she jabbed a finger in the direction of the intact camera. “You should be lucky I didn’t decide to film you. Wouldn’t be good for your PR if all of Paris saw their new heroes committing door abuse, would it?” she jeered, a light of malice gleaming in her cold grey eyes.

Cat Noir straightened his spine, crossing his arms as he glared at her. “ _We_ weren’t the ones throwing a super-powered temper tantrum when we lost a competition, Storm. We didn’t come here looking for a fight. My offer still stands: surrender, and we can help you. There’s no need to make this harder than it needs to be.” Ladybug joined him by his side, her brow creased. “He’s right, you know. We really don’t want to fight you. You’re a victim of someone else who wants to use your pain to hurt others. We don’t have to be enemies. We just want to help.” Stormy Weather scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, give me a break. ‘Don’t have to be enemies’- do you even hear yourself? This isn’t some TV show for seven year olds! This is real life!” Ladybug swallowed harshly, fighting to stop her voice from breaking with nerves. “We’re serious. The last thing we want is to hurt you.” Stormy Weather looked at them with a confused frown. She stared down at her parasol, gnawing on her lower lip as she flitted her focus between it and them. “You… You really want to help me?” she muttered, shoulders relaxing as she finally mustered up the courage to look at them properly. They nodded. “No tricks?” Cat Noir smiled gently at her. “No tricks.”

Stormy Weather didn’t move. She just remained frozen to where she stood, her grip tightening on the hilt of her parasol. With a resigned sigh, she vaulted over the handrail and dropped to the studio floor. She kept her head down, and gingerly made her way to the two heroes. She jutted her arms up, holding her parasol out to them. Ladybug smiled. “See? No one has to get hurt.” She nodded to Cat Noir, who held his hand out to take the parasol. “I bet it was just a misunderstanding.”

The villain snapped her head up, her pupils shrinking. “M…Misunder…?” she mumbled, a strange look passing over her face. Suddenly, anger flashed in her eyes, and her lips curled back into an ugly snarl. She whipped her arms back, and smashed the parasol across Ladybug’s jaw. The heroine staggered back, teetering off balance. Stormy Weather lashed open the black canopy of the parasol, shooting a white-hot bolt of lightning at Ladybug’s chest. She flew backwards, smashing into the armada of screens behind her. “LADYBUG!” Cat Noir screamed, horror filling his eyes. He snapped his head around, pupils slit as he glared at Stormy Weather. “You little- That’s it!” he roared, grabbing his baton and pouncing on her. She blocked his weapon with her own, the two locked in a stalemate. “No one has to get hurt, huh? No tricks?! Were you lying to me so that you can take away my powers?!” Stormy Weather yelled, eyes alight with fury. “We _weren’t_ lying to you! Why do you think everyone is against you?! We just want to help!” Cat Noir hissed back, attempting to keep his tone level despite the burning rage ravaging his insides. She shoved him out of the parry, lashing her foot at his kneecaps. He crumpled to his knees, barely getting time to recover before being smashed in the jaw by the butt of the parasol’s hilt. White exploded into his vision, and he gasped. His head snapped back as Stormy Weather drove the parasol into the underside of his chin. He grimaced, fighting to straighten up as his ears rung.

_There’s that sound again._

What was that? It sounded like someone choking on something, but… muffled? No. That can’t be right. There was no one else in the TV station besides them and Stormy Weather.

“Well, I think my job here is done,” jeered Stormy Weather, her voice distorted as Cat Noir tried to realign his senses. “Oh, would you give it a rest? I’m going to do that once I’ve finished with him! Besides, it’s not like they’re going anywhere. I think I killed the one in the polka dot onesie.” He frowned. _Who is she talking to? And who’s ‘him’?_ He blinked hard, groaning. The click of heels on flooring echoed in his ears. Cat Noir slammed his eyelids shut, relaxing his neck muscles and allowing his head to lull to the side. Something hard and cold jabbed him in the cheek, and he resisted the urge to flinch away. “Huh. Scratch that. I killed both of them.” Pause. “Well you should’ve said so _before_ I attacked them!” Another pause. “Hey, don’t blame _me_ for this! You should’ve been more specific!”

A small yelp of pain came from Stormy Weather. “Okay! Okay! Sorry! That was uncalled for! I didn’t mean it!” Silence. “Look, I’ll get you them, okay? I won’t break our deal. I just have one last thing to take care of, then I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. Is that fair?” Silence replied. “Thanks. And don’t worry: those, uh… whatever it is you’re after, will be yours.” She sighed to herself. _“Ungrateful prick,”_ she grumbled to herself. As soon as her shadow moved away from him, Cat Noir carefully pried one eye open. Stormy Weather was rummaging around some crates of equipment over at the opposite wall, brow knitted together. “Now, where did I put you…?” she mumbled, completely unaware that she was being watched. Her face lit up, and she grinned. “Ah! There you are!” She grabbed something from behind one of the crates, dragging it out of its cover. The thing was a man: one that Cat Noir immediately recognised.

_Alec?_

The presenter had duct tape plastered over his mouth, and chunks of ice bound his wrists and ankles together. His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights as soon as he saw her, and he tried to say something. But all that came out was incoherent mumbling. Stormy Weather smiled at him, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Aww, don’t be scared Alec. It’s just me.” She turned her back to him, picking up some cables and metal apparatus. “You know, I remember hearing somewhere that being struck by lightning causes cardiac arrest.” She grinned maniacally at the presenter, looping the cables over her shoulder. “I wanna test that theory.” Alec let out a muffled scream, thrashing his legs out at her in a pathetic attempt to ward her off. She scooped him up, slinging him over her free shoulder. “Now come on. I have a human lightning rod to build!” She cackled as she left, the doors slamming shut behind her.

Cat Noir scampered to his feet, immediately snapping his attention to the wall of broken screens. “Ladybug!” he yelled, rushing to his partner’s side. The heroine was slumped against the wall, eyes closed. The area of her suit just below her collarbone had been burned away, leaving an angry red scar and the smell of burnt flesh wafted up to his nostrils. He gently took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Ladybug. Ladybug, wake up. We have a problem.” She grimaced, her eyes fluttering open as she groaned. “C…Cat Noir?” she slurred, blinking heavily against the glare of the spotlights behind him. He helped her lean forward, his eyes fixed on the burn. “We should get you some dressing for that burn.” She rattled her head from side to side. “No! N-No. I’ll be fine. Hopefully the Lucky Charm heals injuries too. We need to-“ She glanced around the room. “Cat Noir? Where’s Stormy Weather?” He bit his lower lip. “Yeah… _That’s_ the problem…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Top tip for rewriting a kids' superhero show for teens: have the bad guy kick the living snot out of the good guys.
> 
> Lol jk.
> 
> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took so long. It was like every time I had an idea of how the scene should play out, a new and better idea popped into my head and put me back to Square 1. 
> 
> Soo... What do we think of the characters so far? I'm actually having a lot of fun writing Stormy Weather. She's no Chloe or Natalie, but she's still fun to write dialogue and actions for. And writing the interactions between Ladybug and Cat Noir just gives me life. I love their dynamic. 
> 
> As always, user theories and feedback are more than welcome in the comments below.
> 
> Bug out! 🐞🐾✨


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